Lovelett
by myredrazzlevest
Summary: Lovelett Bailey-Adams only agreed to housesit. Who would have known the vampire king of Mississippi would hunt him down all the way in Calabasas, California? Who would have known his rich best friend would anger a vampire? An ex-model caught in the middle of a theft, Lovelett is forced to entire the world of vampires. Specifically, the world of Russell Edgington.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own _True Blood_.

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I woke to what sounded like incessant pounding on the front door. Clambering down the ornate stair case and nearly sliding on the tile of the front entranceway, I yelled a pissed, "What?" Though there were windows on either side of the carmine red door, I was unable to see who stood behind it. They stood at just the right angle so their entire body was blocked by the thick board. I put my iPhone down on the round table kept in the entranceway and reached for the door knob. I wish I'd left my iPhone in my hand. At least I would have had some kind of weapon for when the bloodsucker attacked.

"Ooh, now you smell delish," the middle aged man outside said once I'd swung the front door wide open. He was pallid, paler than paper, but with baby blue eyes bright and full of the unknown. His red hair shook slightly in the breeze. His chest - actually, his whole body - was as still as a marble statue. The man looked me up and down before asking, "Would you happen to know if Jeremiah Jackson is home?"

I closed the door a little. "Who wants to know?"

He clamped his hand on the door and pushed it back open, easily overpowering me. He smiled, fixed his tailored suit with his free hand. "Russell Edgington," the man said, seeming to puff out his chest. "Vampire king of Mississippi. Now, sonny, please do answer my question." It was a demand, not a question. Russell stared at me with the same intensity seen in animals before they pounce. "Is," he tried again, annunciating each word as much as his thick Southern accent would allow him to, "Jeremiah Jackson home?"

I wanted to beat around the bush. There was no need for this vampire king to know that Jeremiah, my best friend, was out of town on vacation in the Bahamas. Lonely little me, the less wealthy and famous, had agreed to housesit. I was completely and utterly alone in the five bedroom, three and a half bath home. I glanced over at my iPhone. "What's a vampire like you doing in Calabasas?" I prayed my voice didn't sound too frightened out of my wits.

Russell huffed, like he knew I thought he really wasn't Cali material. "Looking for your friend," he said smoothly, having figured me out. "Because he has something of mine that I need back." He raised his eyebrows, a silent question I read as him asking if I knew anything about the missing something. "A certain two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, Lovelett."

His words were a one-two punch. Not only had Jeremiah stolen from the vampire king of Mississippi, but the vampire king quite obviously knew my name. Either he had done research or he could read minds. I know for a fact some vampires can read minds. I didn't just watch the Anderson Cooper special for the hot female bloodsuckers. "You're," I said real slow, "shitting me right?"

Russell's face fell, dead serious. "Not shitting you, dawg."

"But why would Jeremiah be so stupid," I mumbled more to myself than the killer in front of me. "Money has never been an issue. There was the Sundance movie, the Vitamin Water ad, the modeling gig..." Keeping tract of my best friend's success had become somewhat of an occupation of mine. I was somewhere between obsessive fan and agent. "Last time we talked about cash, he seemed like he had shitloads of it. I mean, look at this house."

Russell looked to his right, his left with an almost imperceptible movement. "Uh-huh," he said, uninterested. "While I am overwhelmed with joy to see my money being put toward great residencies, I am disgusted with Jeremiah's design choices." He focused his eyes on my face. He no longer smiled. "Now he needs to return the money or I will have him murdered, wherever he is. No one steals from the king of Mississippi and remains around to play with what he's stolen. Plus," he said, perked up, "I have a certain lover who requires that the two hundred and fifty thousand be back in our account. He, like your friend, has expensive taste."

I reached behind me for my iPhone. "Can I give you his cell number?" I lied, knowing Jeremiah's cell phone number off the top of my head. What I planned to do was have the bloodsucker submit to my offer, then slam the door closed once he allowed me to move. What I didn't take into consideration was his fingers curled around the door.

"Have you ever modeled?"

I faced him. Our conversation had just become what Jeremiah and I called an 'ADD convo.' I leaned against the front door, thrown off guard by his attempt to stroke my ego. "A few times," I tried to answer gruffly, as if I didn't care. "For a little mag called _GQ_, before Jeremiah came along. Then I pretty much got dumped, told I was too old to convey the image they were about, and some other bullshit. My career lasted two, three years. I did it all without an agent, which I pride myself on..."

Russell smirked. "Yes, yes, because I was going to say you look too good to be a housekeeper." He bit his lip, an action that caused the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. "Though," he nearly growled, "not if you were to come keep house over at my place. Boy would Talbot get a kick out of you. Ooh, maybe a few quarts of blood out of you as well. You eat any citrus fruits?"

I dug my nails into my palm to keep from blanching. "I eat a lot of fruits."

"Mm, I see that."

I wished I'd put on a shirt before answering the door. Standing in front of a bloodsucker who appears to be coming onto you in nothing more than plaid pajama pants isn't the best feeling. At least he was no longer threatening. Being five feet eleven inches, having a full head of jet black hair and big brown eyes, and covered up in naturally tan skin, a lot of people came onto me. Maybe it was the exotic mix of Portuguese, Hawaiian, Japanese that had people saying hubba hubba. I knew the feeling all too well, originating from the fiftieth state and moving to the not-as-diversified mainland when I was seven. Now twenty two and staring back at the bloodsucker, I recognized the look he gave me, the look of defensiveness, curiosity, desire that I'd dealt with for ages. Yet all I could think about was why I didn't do sit-ups that morning.

"What kind of a name is Lovelett?"

I made to close the front door. "A stupid one. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Russell pushed back on the painted board between us. "I am afraid you can't do that, my dear." He stepped over the threshold without a cringe or a burst of flames. "You see," he said, "since you don't own this property, you don't have the power to deny me access. You can't invite me in; you can't kick me out." He shut the front door with his foot. "Plus, there's still the teeny matter of my two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. What do you propose we do?"

I reached for my iPhone again, hand shaking. Jeremiah had given me instructions for the washer, dryer, trash compactor, dishwasher, television, my own body. He hadn't left me instructions on how to handle a ripped off, pissed off vampire king. Heck, as far as I knew, vampires didn't frequent Los Angeles. They were down south, where they existed as if in an Anne Rice novel. "How about," I said in the best sales pitch voice I could manage, "I give you Jeremiah's cell phone number? Or how about his agent's cell phone number?" I hated to sell his agent out, but if anyone was to get hurt, I decided best it be the responsible party.

"Don't bother - I already have my reparation."

Then Russell was on top of me, and we fell to the floor in a jumble of legs, arms, and fangs. I felt like I'd just run right into a marble wall. The tiled floor against my back was cold, like the vampire against my chest. Though I punched and kicked, he found the artery in my neck in seconds. I cried out while the vampire king chomped down on that blood-drenched artery and sucked and sucked. Like a crazed dog, Russell didn't want to give me the slightest chance for movement. His tongue licked my neck, his hand grabbed my groin, his fingers stroked my cock. I stilled, retracted inside myself, and watched the silhouette of a palm tree outside through the window. I cried the hardest when the bloodsucker slid into me without warning or preparation. I'd never been with another guy. Not only could I feel wetness dribbling down my neck, but wetness dribbling between my parted legs. I clung to Russell, having no other source of comfort. He whispered something about getting used to _it_, getting addicted to _it_, never wanting anything else but _it_.

He finished inside me. As soon as I heard his primal groan of ecstasy, I scrambled for my pajama pants. My head spun, I saw four, five, six hands in front of me instead of two. Russell said something else and shoved me back onto my back. I think I started to cry, but I'm not quite sure. My eyes felt terribly dry, unlike the rest of my used and abused body. And here I used to think marijuana was self-harm every time I lit up. A blunt was nothing compared to a bloodsucker. While I cursed God, cursed the universe, cursed karma, I also told myself I might have somehow deserved what had come. I was disgustingly jealous of Jeremiah. I was his best friend because I wanted to be close to the one person I hated the most. Better be with him and attempt to beat him later, than to just attempt to beat him.

"Why'd he go now?" I heard myself breathe. "Almost like the motherfucker knew..."

Russell's pallid, blood streaked face was inches from mine. For a moment, I thought he must have been pretty adorable as a child. "Well, like you humans say," he said, breath smelling of iron, "everything happens for a reason. Aw, don't look so down, pumpkin. Should you want to find Jeremiah Jackson after tonight, you'll have more than enough time to do so. If, that is, you can escape Talbot. It has been years since I have brought home a present for him."

I rolled onto my stomach and started to crawl away. Even if my body felt torn to shreds, everything in me screamed that being a vampire present was definitely wrong. I would rather die in the coat closet by the stair case than spend another minute with Russell. Blood had puddled on the tiled floor, which caused my fingers to constantly slip and my body to really go nowhere. I soon gave up, lied facedown on the floor. I knew Russell was probably watching me with amusement in his eyes. I had no chance.

The vampire king of Mississippi picked me up like a burlap bag, slung me over his shoulder, and took me from the house.


	2. Chapter 2

There were two voices, neither hushed. Whoever they belonged to, they both spoke confidently, loudly. I shut my eyes tighter, inhaled and smelled dirt, which roused me. What I remembered was hazed, blurred, like I'd taken video with the fuzzed edges and vintage filter on. I saw the chandelier above the entranceway all lit up. I saw the tiled floor stained with red. I saw the silver circular symbol for Mercedes. Then, black. The strong scent of dirt. The strong pull within my chest that felt as if a chain had been tied around my heart and was now being commanded from somewhere outside my body. My silent, stilled heart. The familiar rhythm I'd known since birth was gone. I held back a blanch of shock, tried to fake sleep. The voices seemed to get louder or get closer, and before I could stop them and fake sleep again, my eyes shot open.

"Raped me," I gasped, forgoing grammar.

There were two men, neither hushed. Russell Edgington knelt at my right, while a dark, curly haired vampire stood at my left, arms crossed. I stared at the tiled ceiling, the four posters of the bed I was on framing my view. Plastic - specifically black plastic trash bags - was tucked beneath and beside me. I guess whoever had carried me inside hadn't wanted to stain the bedspread. Russell's expression turned from anticipation to annoyance. The curly haired bloodsucker threw his arms up with an angered huff. I looked around me dazedly, at the rich bedroom which I'd woken in. While the two hashed out a conversation I could hardly comprehend, I let myself be transported to the eighteenth century by the décor. Living out their existence like an Anne Rice novel indeed. Although the bloodsuckers in the room with me seemed more like an old married couple than the vampire Lestat and Louis.

"What is he talking about?" The curly haired snapped. "I demand to know if you had sex with him or no."

Russell stood, and I was glad to have his attention off me. "Heavens no, Talbot. Can't you see the boy's hallucinating?"

I think the bloodsucker called Talbot glanced over at me. I could hear him shuffle to and fro, contemplating something. After a moment he said, "Why did you even turn this pathetic excuse for a human? You know how much I dislike the West Coast and its..." He searched for the right word. "Animals. Why would you ever make one of them one of us?" His entire tone was that of a man smothered and spoiled. He wore the pants in household matters. I'd the feeling he was more irate about my filthy presence than my actually being one of them.

Huh?

I shot up in bed, looked everywhere and nowhere at the same time. "_What_?"

"See what you have done," Russell said. "You agitated him."

"I would not have woken him if he had not been here in the first place," Talbot cried. "Now you better feed him fast. I do not want him getting all starving, going out, and bringing back some corpse yours truly will have to deal with." He flicked his hand like he could brush air aside. "For your information, I would have been delighted had you not brought me home anything tonight, like usual. I do not like this _model_," he hissed and extended his fangs. "I do not like that he is _yours_, too."

"Seven hundred years," Russell replied. He fell quiet, but I could hear the wet sound of flesh tearing. "And you still get jealous. I thought you were better than this, Talbot. Don't make me rethink having made you. Who is it I come home to? Who is it I listen to? Who is it - I, the king of Mississippi, worship in bed?"

"Me."

Russell shoved his bleeding wrist against my mouth. "Drink," he said, then turned his attention back to Talbot. "Now look here, I changed him because I needed reparation for the two hundred fifty thousand, which is still missing..."

I couldn't hear how Talbot responded to knowing that instead of oodles of cash, he would just have to settle for me. Blood went down my throat without me really sucking, it seemed. All I had to do was open my mouth, and like a human who practically inhales their food, blood was in me, in whatever digestive track I had. I forgot about what I was, focused on filling up instead. I grabbed Russell's arm and held the cold appendage as if I were a drowning man. He grunted because I caused him to stagger in my thirst. Talbot said something about me going to drain him dry, how I didn't have any control, but I ignored him. All I knew is that I wanted more and more - fuck, the feeling was almost orgasmic. I have never felt less like a person than in those few seconds. Russell's blood tasted of so many things. One moment I tasted sweetness, the next moment richness. He yanked his wrist away finally, with great effort.

"Enough," Russell snarled, fangs still extended. "If you desire more, Talbot here can get you a drink from the kitchen."

I leaned back on my hands, my legs spread straight out on the bed. My pajama pants were stained with blood and dirt not even an industrial size washer could wash out. "I want to go home," I said simply, as if that were an option. "I don't want to stay here with you..." I looked at Russell. "Or you..." I looked at Talbot. "Obviously, I'm not meant to be a bloodsucker in the state of Mississippi. I'm not into killing, and I sure as fuck don't fit in with all you western vamps."

"You do not want to hang with the California vampires," Talbot said. It was the first time since I'd woken that he'd talked to me directly. "If you think we are terrible, you will not last a minute with those brutes, especially as a baby vampire."

Russell put his hand on my knee. "Think of yourself as a part of our family now. Forget your mother and father - hell, I have forgotten mine completely - and think of me as your parent instead, for I am your maker. Until I formally release you, you will abide by my command." He smiled a devious smile and I noticed his fangs had retracted. "You might not fit in with us now, but give yourself several days. The transformation from human to vampire is not quick, and is not easy. You will need to learn the ropes. And who better to learn from than a king and his first child?"

I stared down at my palms which gleamed with Russell's blood. I could feel Talbot's eyes creep up from my bare feet and settle on my face. Two terrifyingly tough vampires were awaiting my response. Don't disagree, I told myself over and over in my head. There were tons of items in the room that could easily double as a stake should either not appreciate what I said. Though I wanted to more than anything else, I fought the urge to cry out for my family back home in Cali. I slapped on a smile and said, "I can't wait to get started. Please Mister Russell, please Mister Talbot, show me how to use this gift."

The vampire king of Mississippi laid back on the pillows near the headboard. He chuckled, "Oh, what a delightful load of bullshit. Let us be honest here - admit it, you hate the fact you are now one of us, that you can never ever go back to your old life. Which, quite frankly, was glamorous for a human of your standing, Lovelett."

"You mean this is not the boy who stole from us?" Talbot cut in, surprising me and Russell with his angered tone.

"Have you listened to anything I have said?" Russell placed his arms behind his head. So long as they remained unaggressive, I felt fine being caught between them. "He is needed reparation for the missing money. While I expected Jeremiah Jackson to be lollygagging away at home, Lovelett here informed me our thief was on vacation. He was housesitting." Russell gazed at me with what I read as admiration. "So take care of him, since I am using him as a placeholder for the two hundred fifty thousand. Should Mr. Bailey-Adams meet an unfortunate end before the money is taken back, you will be punished."

I assumed Talbot's face rarely dropped, because when it did that moment, it didn't just drop - it plummeted. Stealing glances at his white complexion, his parted lips, widened eyes, I forgot the initial concern I'd had about the vampire king knowing my last name. Talbot looked like Russell had threatened him with a stake. Which, maybe sub-textually, he had. How did those two go seven hundred years without ripping each other's throats out? After pondering the question for a while and producing an answer (spectacular sex), I thought about what Russell had just said. Placeholder? Like a bookmark? Obviously, expected his money back. I was unfortunate collateral damage that was only worth something at the moment. Calling me 'reparation' was just a nice way of calling me 'pay back.'

"How did Jeremiah steal your money?" I asked after the king of Mississippi left me and his child alone.

Talbot had put his face together again. He donned his veneer of calm and composure again. He looked over at me, arms at his sides. "We do not live this way anymore, but at one point getting into my bed or Russell's bed was enough to get into our pockets. The boy slept with Russell, so do not give me that look. He stayed with us for three weeks doing nothing but having sex, eating us out of house and home, and irritating me out of my mind. If Russell ends up killing him, I won't make a peep. You cannot come into my lover's bed, change the chemistry between us, then steal from _me_ and live."

And this whole time Jeremiah had told me he'd spent three weeks in New York, working. No wonder he needed to steal. I sure as hell wouldn't be able to support a lavish lifestyle without constant employment. I know I should have probably felt more sympathy toward my best friend, but all I felt was the need to find him, and tear the flesh right from his still-living body. Must have been the vampire blood. Talbot saw the problem from a relationship point of view, but Russell definitely saw it business-wise. Downstairs, I could hear the king preparing himself some kind of drink. Damn, the new hearing would be distracting.

"Did you hear me?"

I shook my head; shook the sound of liquid pouring from my ears. "Excuse me?"

"Did you," Talbot said slowly, "have sex with Russell?"

After all the talk about the route Jeremiah had gone down, and the consequences he would have to pay, I thought it best to lie. There was no real way, anyway, of knowing what went down. Any tear had already healed, and my memory of those few minutes of my death were securely stored away. Russell could have had sex with me. Then again, I could have just bled into my pajama pants. Maybe he hadn't even pulled them down at all. Maybe panic and friction had caused me to imagine the whole rape. "No," I said quite assuredly. "He was right - I wasn't feeling myself half an hour ago. I'm sorry, Talbot."

Talbot ignored my apology, cringed at the use of his name. He appeared relieved, though. Or as relieved as a statue could appear. "Good, good. Because for me to have some semblance of feeling toward you, I need to know you are not betraying me. Let me just say: No matter what Russell demands of me, I cannot protect or care for you if I do not like you."

What a pleasant surprise. I could picture us being best friends forever. I nodded, kept my amused smile to a minimum. Though his speech had made me feel like I was joining a _Mean Girls _kind of company, his speech also made me want to piss myself. Betray was a strong word. And what, exactly, did I need protection from? That reminded me I'd only seen one room of their home.

"May I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"What kind of name is Lovelett?"

I was becoming sick and tired of bloodsuckers asking about my name. I glanced up, and would have shifted my eyes, had Talbot not caught and held them with his. His grey gaze read complete seriousness. I doubted he'd seen _Mean Girls_. "A stupid one," I said.

Talbot seemed satisfied by my answer. He went about the room, then, opening and closing various drawers, searching. As I watched his ridged body move, the finality and reality of my situation hit me. I fell back against the bed on a mountain of pillows. If my heart were still beating, I would have described the muscle as beating in my throat. I now belonged - _belonged _- to the vampire king of Mississippi, who was having my now older sibling watch over me. If I wasn't already dead, I would have described my mental state as me wanting to die. Talbot finally yanked out an exquisite silken bathrobe, questioning and commenting about my physique. I tried to think of something chatty to say, but all I could think about was the old saying from _The Cosby Show_, "I brought you into this world, and I can take you out." But Russell Edgington was no Bill Cosby, and I was no longer human. Thankfully, I was too distracted by Talbot to think about my place in their little scheme to steal back their money.


End file.
